Sagittulae, Random Verses Part 15

[1] Muddle.

[2] Machining, _i.e._ thres.h.i.+ng by machinery.

BEDFORDs.h.i.+RE BALLAD.--III.

FRED AND BILL.

Two twins were once born in a Bedfords.h.i.+re home; Such events in the best managed households may come; Tho', as Tomkins remarked in a voice rather gruff, "One child at a time for poor folks is enough."

But it couldn't be helped, so his wife did her best; The children were always respectably drest; Went early to school; were put early to bed; And had plenty of taters and bacon and bread.

Now we all should suppose that the two, being twins, Resembled each other as much as two pins: But no--they as little resembled each other As the man in the moon is "a man and a brother."

Fred's eyes were dark brown, and his hair was jet black; He was supple in body, and straight in the back, Learnt his lessons without any trouble at all; And was lively, intelligent, comely, and tall.

But w.i.l.l.y was thick-set; and freckled and fair; Had eyes of light blue, and short curly red hair; And, as I should like you the whole truth to know, The schoolmaster thought him "decidedly slow."

But the Parson, who often came into the school, Had discovered that w.i.l.l.y was far from a fool, And that tho' he was not very quick in his pace, In the end "slow and steady" would win in the race.

Years pa.s.sed--Fred grew idle and peevish and queer; Took to skittles, bad language, tobacco, and beer: Grew tired of his work, when it scarce was begun; Was Jack of all trades and the master of none.

He began as a labourer, then was a clerk; Drove a hansom in London by way of a "lark;"

Enlisted, deserted, and finally fled Abroad, and was thought by his friends to be dead.

But w.i.l.l.y meanwhile was content with his lot; He was slow, but he always was found on the spot; He wasted no money on skittles and ale, But put by his pence, when he could, without fail.

To the Penny Bank weekly his savings he took, And soon had a pretty round sum in his book: No miser was he, but he thought it sound sense In the days of his youth to put by a few pence.

And so he got on; he was no millionaire, But he always had money enough and to spare; Could help a poor friend; pay his rent and his rate; And always put silver at church in the plate.

His brother, meantime, who was thought to be dead, Had across the Atlantic to Canada fled; Then had gone to New York; then New Zealand had tried; But always had failed thro' perverseness and pride.

He might have done well, but wherever he went, As soon as his money came in, it was spent; As of old he tried all trades, and prospered in none, For he thought that hard work was "a poor sort of fun."

Then he heard of "the diggings," and there tried his luck; He was never deficient in smartness and pluck; And by means of some work, and more luck, in a year He managed to make fifteen hundred pounds clear.

Then he thought of old England and Bedfords.h.i.+re chums, So back to his parish in triumph he comes; And need I remark he found many a friend Right willing to help him his nuggets to spend?

He turned up his nose at his poor brother Bill, Who was always content to be plodding up hill; Hard work he disliked, he despised peace and quiet, So he spent all his time and his money in riot.

There was never a horse-race but Fred he was there; He went to each meet, meeting, marker and fair; In a few words, his candle he burnt to the socket, Till he found one fine day not a rap in His pocket.

Then his poor brother Bill came and lent him a hand; Gave him work and a share of his own bit of land; If he means to keep steady I cannot surmise-- Let us hope that at length Fred has learnt to be wise.

But one thing is plain, if you mean to get on, You will find that success must by patience be won; In the battle of life do not trust to your luck, But to honest hard work, perseverance, and pluck.

Don't turn up your nose at a hard-working chap, For pride soon or later must meet with mishap; And wherever your lot in the world may be cast, "Slow and steady" goes safer than "foolish and fast."

Take warning by Fred, and avoid for a friend The man who would tempt you your savings to spend; Don't waste your spare money in riotous pranks, But put it in Penny, or Post-office Banks.

BEDFORDs.h.i.+RE BALLAD.--IV.

HOME, SWEET HOME.

I'm a Bedfords.h.i.+re Chap, and Bill Stumps is my name, And to tell it don't give me no manner of shame; For a man as works honest and hard for his livin', When he tells you his name, needn't feel no misgivin'.

And works's what I live by. At dawn o' the day, While some folks is snorin', I'm up and away; When I stops for my Bavor [1], 'twould dew your heart good, To see how I relish the taste o' my food.

I'm fond o' my hoein', and ploughin', and drill, And my hosses all knows me and works with a will; I'm fond o' my 'chinin', and thackin' and drainin', For when work's to be done, 'taint no use a complainin.'

I whistles a tune if the mornins be dark; When I goes home o' nights, I sings sweet as a lark; And you'll travel some distance afore you can find A chap more contented and happy in mind.

And I'll tell ye the reason, I've got a good wife, The joy o' my heart, and the pride o' my life.

She ain't made o' gold, nor ain't much of a beauty, But she's allers a tryin' to dew of her duty.

And a tidier home there ain't none in the town Than mine and my Polly's--I'll lay you a crown!

If it ain't quite a palace, I'm sure 'tis as clean: And I'm King o' my cottage, and Polly's the Queen.

But things wasn't allers as lively as now-- There's thirty good years since I fust went to plough; I wor then but a lad, and a bad'un, I fear, Just a trifle tew partial to baccy and beer.

So my maister he very soon gone me the sack, And my faither he gone me the stick to my back; But I cared for his bangins and blows not a rap; I wor sich a queer onaccountable chap!

To make a long story as short as I can; When I'd done as a boy, I became a young man; And, as happens to most men at that time o' life, I axed a young 'ooman if she'd be my wife.

And Poll she consented. O, how my heart beat, When she gone me her hand, smilin' wonderful sweet!

I could hear my heart beatin', just like a Church bell, Till I thought as my weskit 'ud bust pretty well.

But worn't I main happy, and well nigh a crazy, When I heard her her say "Yes," blus.h.i.+n' sweet as a daisy!

We was axed in the church--no one dared to say nay; So The Rector he spliced us, one fine soommer day.

My Poll wor a steady young gal, and a good 'un For was.h.i.+n' and scrubbin', and makin' a pudden; Not one o them gossiping gals, wot I hate, But a quoietish 'ooman, wi' brains in her pate.

But soom how or other things didn't go right; There wasn't atwixt us no manner o' spite; But I stayed out o' Sat.u.r.days nights, and I fear Spent more nor I'd ought on my baccy and beer.

And Poll she look'd sadly, but didn't say nought; She was one as 'ud allers say less than she thought; But I know'd what she thought--so a cloud kind o' come, And darkened the sun as once shone in our home,

But it come to a pa.s.s--'twas the fifth o' November, The day and the year I shall allers remember: Twas midnight and past when I come to my door, Scarce able to stan'--well, I won't say no more?

Next mornin' my head it wor well nigh a splitten, And I stagger'd and stagger'd, as weak as a kitten; But the wust of it all wor the dressin' I got From Polly--oh, worn't it main spicy and hot?